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2014.06.18 - Boys from Brazil (2014)
Nazis. Well...not exactly. Everyone present has received an anonymous tip to some tie they hold in the final days of WWII known as the "Boraga Affair" after a nearby creek. Supposedly, in the final days of WWII, a bunch of allied soldiers and heroes stopped a secret eugenics based full of Hitler clones and kicked their ass. Supposedly again, the mission never happened, or all enemy agents were killed. It's denied by the US, probably because the idea of a US military operation in Uruguay, even now, 60 years later, would likely cause all kinds of problems diplomatically for the US. Anyone investigating on the internet would find all kinds of conspiracy theories about the situation right up there with the Roswell incident or the Kennedy assassination. There was supposedly a series of murders in the 1970s which led to a witness claiming Dr. Mengle had escaped the destruction of the first base, and created many more Hitler clones, hidden around the world, placed to cause the rise of the 4th Reich. Nothing came of it and the promised Hitler rise never happened. The portfolio sent to each of you includes documented evidence of money moving around, payments to various parents and a heavily redacted list with the names hidden, but birth dates and locations that might theoretically conform to such a list. Only one name is left uncovered. Colonel Adolfo Jitler of the Uraguayan Army. It includes a picture. The mustache is longer and more grown out, the skin is a bit darker...but otherwise? The guy sure LOOKS like Hitler. His squad, all of European descent, have a smiley face as their symbol. More records show pay offs to illegal cartels for large amounts of very high tech weaponry, increasing to take place during the 2014 World Cup when most of the country would be highly distracted. To anyone who knows to look for it, it sure looks a lot like a coup de etat. All roads point to a bar outside the Villa of said Colonel where our heroes find themselves the only outsiders in an otherwise empty tavern since this is the only bar in the city NOT playing the world cup but which provides a perfect view to the private compound of the Colonel.... With Katherine Anne Pryde currently out of the country, Piotr has been collecting her mail, under orders to use his best judgment on what to leave and what to open. He does have her phone number and E-Mail, but she told him that most of it would be left until she got back. But this package seemed important. It was larger and had no return address, so he opened it. He knew about her history and her faith. He learned Hebrew for that girl, and bore a tattoo of 'Katr', with the 'r' being backwards, as he had the Russian form of her name in Cyrillic on his chest. Feeling that he would spare her of bringing up such painful memories, and out of respect for the good work she was doing elsewhere, Piotr Rasputin did what he thought was right. He booked a flight to South America to deal with this. Arriving incognito, Piotr wore local attire and a hat, hoping to cover his face. The build, well, there was no getting around that. He's a big guy, but he hunched as he entered, hoping to deflect attention from himself. He takes up a seat at a table, as the portfolio had suggested, orders a drink, and waits... Cinque would never admit to himself his deep respect and admiration for the heroes that made up of the Invaders and other heroes that fought in World War II, well not this version of himself, but he still fascinated by the activities of these heroes, during the war and after. The "Borage Affair" was way above his pay grade, but he still had friends that he still remains from those days, and suspects one of them gave him the information. After taking one of Cadmus' black jets to Uruguay, he arrives at the cafe. Cinque makes his way to the cafe with costume and weapons neatly fitted in a special design briefcase. Namor, King of Atlantis was there all those years ago, along with three of the original Invaders: Spitfire, Vision and the Blonde Phantom. When the portfolio was sent to Namor c/o Emma Frost he was intrigued. That mission ended with a total success, the celebration had been a rather large deal for them, it was after all the first time he had managed to get under Blonde Phantom's... never mind that wasn't important. What was important was this: The Sub-Mariner does not fail. However he did no better than to just charge in and destroy everything like he would have back in those days of old. That and Jennifer Walters had taught him a few things about having a secret identity (of sorts) so he decided it was best to play along and see what he could find out before he moved in to utterly erase this past failure of his. He entered the tavern dressed as 'Mac,' a sailor who used to fight in 'The War' though many assume he means Iraq or Afghanistan rather than World War 2 these days, his youthful continence that belied his age would not fit that of a thrice decorated veteran of World War II (of the Great Surface War as it was known of in Atlantis.) He was dressed in rather local attire except for a nit cap he wore over the top of his ears and low enough to hide his arched eyebrows. The socks were itchy though, socks always made his wings itch. One of the few times in her legendarily long run as a spy and agent provocateur that Mystique worked more or less pro bono was in the 1940s. She was in the early years of a long-running affair with a precognitive, after all. Long before the rest of the world recognized just how dangerous and extreme the Third Reich's ideas and methods were, Destiny's visions and Mystique's own covert work had painted an alarming picture of the lengths to which the Germans would go to create their idea of a pure race. Needless to say, 'their idea' excluded Raven Darkholme on any number of levels, so for one of the first times in her life, she found herself fighting a war on ideological grounds. A mostly profitless war, it has to be said, and now it looks like the past is refusing to stay buried. Of course, if any of her modern colleagues heard she was working pro bono, even to re-kill Hitler, she would never live it down. So the woman who walks into the bar is a twiggy blonde tourist. She's looking a little lost as she scans the room, finally fixating on Piotr with a slight predatory curl to her lips. She makes her way over, greeting him with a, "Hello, handsome," in an intentionally vague European accent. "Mind if I sit with you? I'm new around here." As vague hints go, it's pretty poor. How many people did the invitations go to? How are they supposed to recognize each other? Well there is an ace in the hole, since one of the parties present knows who they were sent to. The problem being, of course, one of them is in disguise, the other is not the person to whom the file was sent...and then there's Mystique. But there are, literally, only four patrons in the bar, plus the bartender, who seems chronically bored and watching a telenovella rerun. He just doesn't like Futball. This is not a good time to not like Futball but he is VERY pleased to have customers and looks at each of you, "What will you have?" He asks in English...accented but passable. Piotr does not recognize Mystique. How could he? He has no special sense of smell, telepathy, or any other way to detect her, so he treats her as if she were what she appears to be, a twiggy blonde tourist. Since he speaks no Spanish, he pretends to be a tourist himself, speaking in German to hide his Russian accent, "Hallo Fraulein, konnen Sie mir zu kommen, wenn Sie wollen... aber ich bin nicht sehr talktive." Cinque peers around a few the other inhabitants of the bar. He looks over the mirror and lets out a frustrated sigh at the fact that his face was different the last time he spoke to Namor, but what can one do in this case. Cinque walks over to Namor and extends his hand, "So you are a sailor. I use to know this sailor that I met in France. He bought me a bunch of drinks after him and this female pilot helped a few friends out. Cinque extends his hand and smirks, "Different faces, different places, but seems the same threat remains." The woman gives Piotr a big, goofy grin and pulls out a chair, waving a hand dismissively to his concerns. "" she answers in her own flawless German. "" Her expression is utterly mild and friendly as she continues, "" She extends one manicured hand and winks. "" Namor quirked an eyebrow and looked over to the German speaking man in the tavern. The man didn't look German, Namor had a good eye for something like that. It was honestly the Americans that ever threw him off too-heavily, they were a mongrel race among the Surface Dwellers, to many mixed up parts. No the man who spoke German, looked Russian. That was odd. And who would decided to speak German in a primarily Spanish-Speaking country? Also odd. As he was planning a course of action, that is when Cinque approached him. At first he looked at the man with a look of confusion, before he put together what he was actually saying. That was another mission Namor had been on that was not exactly one of the well known stories of World War 2. "How is it that you are here?" He says it in a hushed tone, "And why do you look different?" He had forgotten about the German speaking Russian for the moment. Probably for the best: When Namor disappeared from the surface his primary foes were Russians with the All-Winner's Squad. A year might not be enough time to wipe away all prejudice. "--That ok. I speak little German too. What kind of drinking of the alchoholic beer booze do you want to be consumingness--" ?" The bartender was quite anxious to have someone buy something. Really. " "--Water? Beer? I hear Germans like beer?--" (—German.) Piotr raises an eyebrow at the woman's flawless German, even better than his own. She can almost certainly tell that he is not a German, and that's assuming she hasn't already figured out that he is Piotr Rasputin, Colossus, founding member of the Justice League, and one of the X-Men. He doesn't appreciate the backhanded compliment, but lets it go without incident. Her mention of Nazi raises his attention to an all new level, "--Hello Cindy. And yes, I am.--" He shakes her hand, gentle in his touch, before he puts it back with his other one. At least with both of them speaking Russian, maybe they'll blend. Two tourists visiting the country? "--Sorry, I just put two and two together,--" 'Cindy' says apologetically, using feigned friendly intimacy to maintain the illusion of two friends on vacation. "--The bad disguise, the surly attitude. Cleverly using an unusual language to communicate; not so cleverly picking the language of the people you're trying to spy on.--" She pats his arm reassuringly. "--It's a rookie mistake, but you'll learn. I assume you got a dossier, like I did?--" She gives him an inquisitive and slightly confused look. (--German.) "Do I really have to list how many of you Invaders seem to have cheated death? I didn't do the whole costume thing back then, but give a simple soldier some credit to escaping death clutches too." Cinque peers over his shoulder, As for the face, it is a very long story and a problem that I am working on to rectify, but I am here because a member of my group works with the Economy. I am assuming that is the reason why you are here." Cinque replies in a hush tone and looks at the television as he talks to Namor, "There are supposed to be more people here, and I do not recognize the other two people here." Cinque nods to the bartender as he speaks German and turns to Namor, "I can back you up if want to see if they are here for the same reason Cinque had a fair enough point. It was very true that between him, the Blonde Phantom, the Original Human Torch, Captain America, and even rumors that Bucky had some how returned to life, cheating death was rather common. Namor looked over at the couple chatting in German and said, "I will not require backup from a surface dweller, but they are making me... anxious." Ah there was that Namor arrogance and paranoia, where were you! He stood up from his seat at the bar and spoke in perfect, unaccented German, "Excuse me peasants, but I have a question for the lot of you. Why is it that two people are in Uruguay speaking rather well spoken German instead of Rioplatense Spanish which is the common dialect of the region." Namor stood up straight and tall, his posture revealed that he was not in the mood for these sort of games. (--German.) The bartender says, "--Still to be jelly doughnut hour. What part of small wiener dog are you from? I have a friend in Hamburger. He is very good.--" He wipes glass and smiles his most customer friendly smile. It's mildly frightening. (--German.) Piotr nods to the bartender, "--Yes, I will have a vodka, and whatever the lady wishes.--" And to 'Cindy', he will add after the bartender has departed, "--I do not usually hide. I am Colossus and yes, I did get a dossier.--" No reason for him to hide that he got a dossier, or who he is. After all, Colossus knows no fear. "--Oh, that's alright - there's no point in hiding anyway. When you've been in the business as long as I have, you learn to spot a gathering that is made up entirely of undercover agents trying to sneak up on each other.--" Cindy leans in with a teasing smile and rubs her hand up and down Piotr's forearm flirtatiously, then leans back, winks at Namor, and calls out to the bartender, "--Barkeep! Four vodkas, neat, for four spies, sloppy!--" She waves cheerfully across the room. "--No need to be shy, boys! Come have a seat.--" Unlike Namor, it seems, Mystique has a never ending appetite for games. (--German.) Doctor Umoja chuckles softly as everyone continues to speak, and even if he did he is not going to pass for being German. Cinque watches the bartender for a moment, before walking to the table and speaks in a hush tone to the trio, "I believe time is probably of somewhat importance, and since you are the only two people here, and what I have learn from working with Kilroy, his group are very careful in their dealings, so I guess we are here for the same reason. Can we get on with business? This is not one of my favorite places in the world to visit." Namor squinted his eyes in anger slightly and looked at the Bartender and then spoke again, this time Spanish without any discernible accent "I do not imbibe surface drinks so bring me nothing, or we will have words.." Namor took off his hat, it seemed based on what he was overhearing that everyone with the exception of the Bartender were in on all of this so no need for disguises. The Bartender could be taken out easily enough. With the knit hat off his head he looked very much like Mr. Spock. Er... Namor! That's who he looked like. And if you paid any attention to the news in the United States you know he once tried to destroy Metropolis with a giant Whale Monster, attacked a polluting factory in Brazil, joined a super-hero team fronted by Lex Luthor, was seen entering the Latvertian Embassy on multiple occasions and most recently helped destroy a giant monster in Upstate New York. And that was only in this last year. He switched to English, "I assume you are all here for the same reason my associate and I are. So I say that we pool our resources and stop with these games. And if you are not here for that reason, I suppose that means my mission starts with you." The bartender is eager to the point of obsequiousness. He gets a vodka and another vodka, but then goes back and gets four, but then goes and gets three, and comes back with three glasses. He's now terrified of the group but sets them down gently. "On the house!" He says in English. He puts down a pitcher of water and a glass...next to the water. Is water a surface dweller drink? Who knows? Better to take no chance. As he finishes he moves to the edge of the bar, and begins looking at the house of the Colonel, a curious look on his face. Piotr listens to 'Cindy' and then when she blows what little cover he has, he takes off the stupid hat, and speaks in English, perfect English, but Russian accented English. "I am Piotr Rasputin. Who are you?" He asks calmly and politely, assuming that she's the only half decent spy in the joint. As the bartender remarks that it's on the house, Piotr instead pays for it, with a generous tip, "Please, leave the bottle, and keep the change, tovarisch." He tries to sound reassuring for the now worried man. "Hiya, Rexie," Cindy says, finger-waving at Namor and giggling, clearly enjoying having him at a disadvantage. "Good call getting rid of the hat, by the way -- it made you look like Imperius dreck." She glances down and fiddles with the overpowered Nikon strung around her neck. "Then again, I think this outfit makes me look a little brainless." A wedge of crimson and blue starts at the crown of her head and consumes 'Cindy' camera and all, replacing her in less than a second with the regal, commanding presence of Mystique. "There, that's better." She leans back, crossing her legs and arms and raising one eyebrow. "Now explain to me why the rest of you aren't going to be a liability on this op." She utterly ignores the bartender, except to take her drink and sip at it, sneering at the taste. "Drinking spirits before a mission is also considered bad form." Namor says his grimace staying hard and very true. He hated working with amateurs they were always in the way rather than helpful at all. And then "Cindy" started opening her moth and throwing out terms like Rexie and Imperious dreck. Namor's anger started to rise and he was half tempted to tear this entire bar down around their ears. Then she changed. Namor raised his arms and rubbed the sides of his neck, the Atlantean version of rubbing your nose in annoyance. Why not another unexpected reunion. Though this one may be a bit more awkward because of their past history, "Raven, of course it's you. Who else would try to infuriate me so." He actually stepped forward and poured the vodka into the water glass he had been provided, he needed a drink now. By the time the glass was full he chugged it down. Refilling it with water and drinking that down to as not to dehydrate himself, "I didn't even know you were still alive yet still active in this sort of game." Cinque furrows his brow as Cindy transforms into Mystique and looks down at his brief case. "Well, I remember destroying a sentinel with a manhole cover, bombs, and the help of NightCrawler, and I am lot smarter and more powerful than I was then..." Cinque looks away from his brief case and smirks at Mystique, "Now, I cannot remember who was behind programming those Sentinels to attack.... Entirely unseen by the four heroes planning their assault on the house, the bar owner gets an annoyed look on his face, and marches right up to it and begins pounding on the front door. He is swearing in Italian and says, <"I know you're roasting peanuts in there again Eduardo! I told you! I'm allergic!"> Piotr Rasputin drowned his vodka, and immediately poured another. With his constitution, he could probably drink a quarter of the bottle and not feel any ill effects. He needed it after seeing Mystique's transformation, "So, who rounded us up? I know why we are here, but who arranged this?" And yeah, he makes no attempt to reference that he is here in place of Kitty Pryde. "Oh, dearie, the sins of my past have all come a-calling," Mystique says, her affect flat as she gazes into the drink she is idly swirling. Then her brilliant yellow eyes flick upward, and a grin full of wicked amusement spreads across her features. "This is going to be fun." She knocks back the rest of her vodka, then slams the glass down on the table. "Who cares who brought us here, Colossus? It's not every day you get to kill Hitler. Take a little joy in your work." That comment leads her to wink at Namor -- there's clearly a bit of history there. Completely at ease, she settles back in her chair, lifts a fist, and starts counting off points. One: "I've got a sniper rifle in a case outside." Two: "I'll set up on the roof of the bar and blast Senor Jitler the moment he shows his cabeza." Three: "The rest of you should get ready to deal with the enforcers the bartender is calling in." She glances at the window, then back at their faces. "Like, now." Since identities were all getting out of the open, there was no need for any sort of charade anymore. And Namor hated surface clothing, it itched so much unless it was made of their so-called silk or satin fabrics. Shedding the coat and then the shirt, he proceeded to literally rip the pants, shoes and socks off his body. The tiny wings on his ankles stretched themselves out by instinct, happy to be free of their confines. So he stood their in just a pair of green scaled briefs and a golden belt with the seal of Atlantis royalty on it's buckle. No trident though, he realized walking in with a trident was a little too showy. Plus he didn't need it to deal with Nazis. Never did. "Raven's right. But she's also a fool if she thinks that she can kill the cloned furor with a sniper bullet. Especially if they know we are here. Which we more than likely know they do.. or will." Namor said as he crossed his arms across his chest, "Tousaint? I've always been able to count on you in the past. Are you ready for one last battle of the Great Surface War? Because I doubt this will be easy." "Economy sent us, more specifically, Kilroy sent us the invites." Cinque peers over at the house of Colonel and lowers his voice, "We are dealing with five hundred men, 1o mechanical walkers, and a large underground complex underneath the house." Cinque doesn't look back to the bartender as he lowers his voice some more, "The bartender is innocent, but he is collateral damage to those inside. Cinque adds, "Of course, you can count on me." Cinque says, "They don't know we are here, so we have the element of surprise on our side." Cinque plops his briefcase on the table and says, "Why don't we hit them hard and fast?" Piotr's tone turns intense, "No one is going to become collateral damage while I am here," and he gives Cinque a look, steely-blue orbs filled with an iron will, and a cold metallic determination. "Now, about their defen..." he begins, but Piotr sees the flickering of light through the window. Knowing that they are no longer alone, he stands, rising to his feet, and becomes Colossus, the organic steel running over him, transforming him from a man into a god. Moving away from the table, just in time to see a round fire. He acts like a lightning rod, the energy being drawn towards him and harmlessly dissipating into the carpet, which makes for a poor conductor. There is this awkward moment where the bartender looks back and forth at the soldiers in the window....and the living metal man near him. They look at him. He looks at them. They look at Colossus. This goes on for a full minute (where our heroes can do stuff on their own subtly in the background should they so choose) before the bartender raises his hands and goes to hug Piotr. "Free drinks for life for you metal man!" There is much swearing in Spanish as the soldiers go back inside. An alarm flares throughout the compound. Walkers raise up behind the wall of the house, their tops now visible to the others without X-Ray vision. Turrets come from the top of the compound and soldiers begin swarming forth into the town. There is much swearing in Spanish and occasionally German. The wrath of Jitler has been stirred. Mystique's crimson eyebrows rise as she watches Namor undress. "I take back what I said earlier, your majesty," she says, managing to make 'majesty' sound like the filthiest word in the dictionary. "You look as fine as ever." But then a shot is fired, Colossus leaps into action, and there's no more time for discussion. She stands, kicking the chair away behind her, and bolts for the door. As she runs, her white casual outfit shifts in color and cut, becoming clingy black pants, leather boots, and a back-baring midriff top. Perfect for a paramilitary rumble in the jungle. She also morphs a pair of shoulder holsters for the suppressed Walther pistols that she has been carrying in her torso, and draws one of the pistols in case someone is outside waiting for her. "I didn't say the sniper rifle was the only thing in the case," she snaps as she crouches by the door, leaning out to check for hostiles. "If you want a frontal assault instead of sniper support, I'm equipped for that, too." Cinque uses the distraction that Colossus provided to use his superspeed to open up his blue briefcase which is indeed bigger on the inside, and puts on his uniform and gear on. Doctor Umoja looks over at Namor and says, "I am a lot quicker on land than I am in the air." Umoja smiles, "I can keep the turrets and the soldiers occupied, while you guys move on the compound. Umoja says, "We meet back here afterward, and drinks are on me this time." Umoja moves through the town combining his supersense with his superspeed firing his plasma pistol to appear to be in several places at once It was times like this, and things like this that he missed the Invaders and the All-Winner's Squad. Heck, he'd take the Justice Society even though he never got along with them. People like Tousaint and Raven, despite his misgivings about seeing her again; he'd much prefer more... intimate surroundings, they knew how to get things done! That's when all hell breaks lose and the Russian man who's name Namor barely remembers at this point turns into a metal man, "So you like the She-Hulk but metal. Interesting difference, but still useful." Namor seemed uninterested in the firing weapons, the advantages of being invulnerability and being able to absorb a limited amount of electricity for that matter, considering the weapons their enemies were using. When Cinque ran off he smirked, "Didn't know he could do that actually." He smiled and shouted at Colossus, "You've done what you needed to do, comrade! Now it is time to actually enter the fray!" He positioned himself to for a second and the wings on his ankles started to flap so fast they looked like the wings of a humming bird he sneered and shouted, "IMPERIOUS REX!" Charging forward towards the soldiers in the front of the bar, and taking most of the bar wall with him as he smashed into them. Namor SMASH! The bartender is saying to Cinque, " in spanish as the wall flies up and down like paper while he absorbs their fire. Lightning sizzles at both Colossus and Namor, bouncing off them. As Cinque fires on them, they fire back, but the super speed has the storm trooper effect and they miss while many of them go down to the return fire. Namor reaches the two solders that originally emerged and are easily dispatched. Then come the walkers, forty feet tall, their weapons train on Cinque, Colossus and Namor. The bartender is extremely grateful. "Thank you, I will make sure I am to be safe." He runs away. He is grateful for the 5000 and gets to actual safety. Umoja's mowdown hoedown is quite effective. The smoke grenade does a lot of damage. The walker fires at him. It is strong as an anti aircraft gun, blinding lighting and very fast! The soldiers near Piotr are terrified...but the battle is loud, so only 30 of them back up....about half of those are lost in smoke. So much for checking for hostiles. Mystique keeps one pistol up at her shoulder and darts outside, flicking out her free arm in the form of a dextrous tendril to snag her gun case. She dives into the brush, dragging it after her, and comes to rest in a thick patch of underbrush where she can take a few minutes to prepare her own assault. And what an assault it's going to be. A crash of trampled underbrush, the squawk of startled birds, and then a mighty, booming voice calls out from the treeline: "HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN, HERR HITLER!" A few more resounding footfalls, and there, draped in orange fire by the shining sun, is none other than ... Franklin Delano Roosevelt?! The 32nd President of the United States is standing tall, his polio-stricken legs replaced with what appears to be a robotic prosthesis in the cyberpunk style. His torso, inexplicably barrel-chested, is clad in an outrageously flashy stars-and-stripes blazer and tie combo. On one shoulder rests the butt of a skyward-pointed assault rifle; on the other, unless the eyes of the assemblage do deceive them, a perched bald eagle chooses that exact moment to stretch its wings in a grand gesture of nobility. "COME OUT OF YOUR LITTLE UNDERGROUND HOOVERVILLE, ADOLF!" F.D.R. bellows. "IT'S TIME WE HAD A FIRESIDE CHAT!" And the longest-serving American President opens up with a grenade launcher. Hearing the complaints of the Barkeep said, "Please, I will pay for the damages, they will make what the metal man gave seem like toilet paper!" Namor then looked at the Metal Man who's name he still couldn't remember and said, "Alright, comrade. Do you want to get to the action? Or shall we just stand here and let Tousaint get all the fun." He glanced back to Mystique, "The same question to you. But I think I know the answer to that one, Raven." With that he wrapped his arm around Raven, or rather FDR rather harshly pulling him to her with a seductive grin. He remember she didn't like it gentle. And then flew over to Colossus grabbing him by a metal shoulder and then flying all of them over the military base. "Alright, comrade... as they say on the Bombs away!" Namor says as he lets go of Colossus's shoulder allowing him to drop into the middle of this base. He looks at Raven, or rather FDR and sets him down on top of a building where he... she... it... can do the most damage, damn shapeshifters. As he flies back into the air he says to Raven/FDR, "I knew President Roosevelt and let me tell you Raven. You will never be him!" It is, perhaps, at this point when the regular soldiers of the Uraguayan Army began to realize that signing up with a man named Adolpho Jitler in his special high tech squad with nifty sun patches and a desire to take over the country in a coup de etat...and who had officers all speaking German and brains in jars....realized that perhaps this was a bad idea after all...and began to run en masse. As many of them that were killed by the grenades and shots of the heroes, were shot by their own actual nazi officers for running away leading to mass hysteria. ALL the walkers on the other hand, took aim and began to fire at FDR...even as she flew through the air causing four of them to obliterate themselves in the cross fire. Dr. Mengle at this point shrieks and comes out with Jitler himself, "KILL THEM ALL!" Jitler happily complies and moves with super speed at FDR. With the bartender saved, and a few dozen guards scared into wetting themselves, Piotr was just about to get into this fight, doing more than just saving people and looking scary. Except, he was dumbfounded, stunned really, by Mystique's reappearance. He was shocked. His mouth hung open, words failing him. So much so that he barely noticed when Namor picked him up and flew him over the base. Back to his pleasant self, he enjoys the fall, feeling the seed he builds up as this very large, very heavy cannon shell lands in the middle of the compound. When he hits, it with a thud, crushing the ground beneath him and kicking up a cloud of dust. When it begins to clear, Colossus begins striking at the guards and anything that stands his way. He tries to use non-lethal force, but he probably does cause a number of serious injuries. A regular person would probably break their hand if they tried to hit him, so when he does the opposite, it is not pretty. Umoja is able to move away from being hit by a direct blast from the walker, but the aftershock carries him into the air. As his healing factor kicks in, Umoja is making his way to one of the one walkers and throwing a muay thai knee at the walker. When Colossus lands in the middle of the base, the rear four walkers are outright smashed by the weight. Getting past all of the people and all of the other walkers. They are not useless, since they have half their legs and canons, but are essentially immobile. All turn their guns on him. Cinque is able to smash the walker, crushing its knee with his leverage, sending it spinning into the ground. "His loss!" Mystique yells back to Namor in her own voice. Then, back to her performance. F.D.R. sprays bullets at the onrushing Faux-hrer, grinning teeth clamped on a long cigarette holder. "COME AND GET IT, JERRY!" he hollers, in those dulcet tones that used to soothe your great-granddaddies on the radio. "HOW'S THIS FOR A NEW DEAL: DIE FAST AND I WON'T LEAVE THIS PLACE A CRATER THAT MAKES MY DEAR COUSIN'S CANAL LOOK LIKE A KIDDIE POOL!" Like the soldiers charging the beaches of Normandy, he neither falters nor turns aside: there is no attempt to avoid the onrushing clone. Namor smiled at his 'team' as they went about their business. He saw 'Tousaint' get hit but figured the WW2 vet had his ways around it all. The Metal Man was easily holding his own. Mystique... was Mystique, even if they seemed to kill her she would still get away. That was Raven's way. Namor dodged the incoming fire of himself and found a specific place to strike. It was between all the walkers that had started to spread out to take out his 'team' A place that if he flew down at Mach 1 and struck the ground, the shock wave would knock the walkers over. WW2 Namor couldn't have done this, Modern Namor could do easily. He hovered in air for a while before he shouted. He hit the ground before those words could be heard, in fact a sonic boom let out and the shockwave shattered every window in the base. When he landed the ground shattered under him much like it did under Colossus when Namor dropped him. At last the words caught up and they said this: "Imperious Rex!" Jitler has all the super powers a man could want, but has almost no experience using them. So it is with relative ease that the martial arts master turns the force of his super speed into a convenient little neck snap by leaping into the air, locking her legs onto his neck and using his own speed to snap his neck. Jitler has left the coil. When Namor makes his astonishing thunderclap, the walkers, already reeling but not down, shift from attacking the primary nemesis of their now dead master to the actual most dangerous person here...too late, for as soon as they bring their guns about they are CRUSHED. And fall silent. Dr. Mengle, finally caught, ancient and gray, steps out of the shadows and falling dust, and holds his hands up. "I...(gulp)...I surrender!" After the battle, Umoja takes a moment to scan over the battlefield. When he sees the dead Jitler, he moves over to the body and places his plasma pistols on high. He fires down at the body over and over again until all that is left is ash. "No one will be recovering this clone's DNA." Colossus continues fighting until everyone seems to be down, fleeing, or ready to surrender. Their choice of course. As the battle draws to a close, he begins to look around for his compatriots, curious to see if anyone's been seriously hurt. He remains guarded, staying in his metallic form. Some of his clothes have been torn, shredded, or simply damaged beyond repair from the battle and his landing. "Is everyone okay?" He calls out. Namor just lets loose, he hasn't done this since his rampage in the Metro Museum of Natural History, when he had first remembered himself. He rampages through the walkers, destroying all of them, one by one. He feels like he's back in the Great Surface War. He destroyed hundreds of Japanese planes, thousands of German and Italian soldiers. He is virtually indiscriminate in his actions. When the shooting dies down he looks at Colossus and answers, "Our side is fine, their side dies." "You should not be so quick to kill, tovarisch. These men, they may not all deserve to die, and every one of them has it within him or herself to change." Piotr gives a bit of a speech, but he knows that Namor is of a different viewpoint. Namor would prefer to kill someone for their crimes, Piotr would prefer to help them see the error of their ways, and he helps a wounded soldier, from the other side, giving some first aid, what little he can do to help. At the bar, the bartender has set up drinks for everyone. Vodka for Cinque and Piotr. Not set but a pitcher of water at the table for Namor. Mengle, notorious war criminal, seems at a loss of who to surrender to but finally walks up to the bartender and says, "I surrender." The bartender turns him over to the policia. "As right as rain." Umoja puts his weapons away as he gazes over at the Dr. Mengle, then back to Namor and Colossus, "I would normally agree with you, comrade, but they are Nazis. They are beyond redemption. They are a tree that always bears fruits of evil." "Metal Man. You think so complexly. And that is a good thing in most situations. But to be fair, comrade," Namor looked at Colossus now, and not the other man, Tousaint, "You were raised in Russia, correct? I was raised Atlantean. I was raised as something you would learn to be a Czar. Royalty. I spent the formative years of my life learning what that would mean." Namor gestured out with both his arms gesturing to all the dead Nazis and the destroyed walkers, "These people here, they are remnants of a war past your prime. A war of complete destruction. A war that nearly destroyed my people." R Namor walked towards Colossus and said, "I am Namor the First. King of Atlantis and it's Avenging Son. I have chosen my enemies carefully and fully." He shook his head among the wreckage and said, "If you wish to challenge me, I will accept it. But I will take little pleasure in destroying you." Piotr considers Umoja's words, ever the thoughtful one. He continues to tend to another fallen soldier. Some of Namor's words are lost on him, for Piotr was born during the later stages of the Soviet Union. As far back as he can remember it has been the Russian Federation. The Czars, they are but history. But he can imagine, if perhaps not appreciate, what it might have been like to have been raised to be a ruler. Rising from the soldier he had been tending to, Piotr offers his hand to King Namor. It may not be proper, but he's hoping that Namor sees him as an friend, an ally, and maybe, an equal. "King Namor, you may have chosen your enemies carefully, but I do not have enemies, except those who make it so." He remains silent for a moment, again with the thinking, so many emotions, and yet so few signs on his metallic face. "I have no wish to challenge you." He begins to walk away, as if to leave Namor to perform the dastardly deed, but there is a purpose. He is in fact walking towards something, a single tree, towards the far end of the courtyard. Shrinking, Colossus, the god-like being, is replaced by a man, Piotr Rasputin. Reaching up to one of the branches, he plucks a single orange. "Doctor Umoja said that these men were beyond redemption. They are Nazis. They are a tree that always bears the fruit of evil. And yet..." he begins to peel the orange with his fingernails, "trees grow throughout the world, in warm weather and cold, in nutrition rich soil, and in the earth that is barely more than clay. Even the worst environment, filled with hatred, and evil, may still bear the sweetest fruit." Walking back towards his colleagues, he overs a slice to all that want one, and what is left, he gives to some of the soldiers who seem up to it. "These men will stand trial. They will answer for their crimes. And if they are guilty, they die. But I will not be their executioner, and it will not be today." In human form, Piotr is a tall man, with a commanding voice, but today, there is resolve, there is steel, but in his eyes, there is a kind of softness. Though he may find himself in situations far from what he had hoped, he will always be true to himself, for he is Piotr Rasputin. He is Colossus. Cinque peers down at the fruit offered to him and utters the word that he always uses to express his regret to those who didn't see their family stolen and sold into slavery, fought in the Civil War, hunted by Night Riders and Klan, saw the slaughter of Native Americans, fought Fascists, Apartheid, and Nazis. It is a word that he use it to remind himself that some people will never know how truly dark the world and people are. A smirk appears behind his mask and he utters a single word, "Folly!" , and then takes off into the air. "Yes, life was much more certain, behind the iron curtain. The Ruble was more stable, there was cabbage on the table. The truth was very easy to identify, everything in Praha was a lie, lie, lie! And if democracy doesn't work, it's iron curtains for all of us. There is a certain magic, when your life is tragic. I'm feeling melancholic, and I'm an alcoholic. I get so sentimental, and I try, try, try. Give me a vodka, I am dry, dry, dry!" Pausing, he jokes, "All vodka corrupts, but Absolute vodka corrupts absolutely!" Then he goes back to singing, "To hell with comrade Yeltsin, he makes us pull our belts in. Ginovski is a wanker, so him in Lubyanka. I don't want a Pizza Hut or a Big Mac, I preferred the market when it was all black!" Pausing for another joke, "I called escort service. I said send me big fat ugly woman. I'm homesick!" Then, back to his spammy song, "Russian contribution is more than revolution. Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, and Alexander Nevsky, don't forgot Nutcracker by Ballet Bolshoi, that was the first story of a toy, toy, toy!" Third joke coming, "In Russia we also had the 60's, but not until the 70's!" And back to his song, "I really, really, like-a, Russian balalaika. It's not like rock and roll, it soothes my Russian soul. It makes me want to go dancing through the neighbourhood, oh balalaika something good!" After a balalaika solo, he sings something in Russian. "The words mean, I am not against lapdancing. What they do in Finland is not my business. Home, home in Ukraine, bring communist rule back again, if we were democratic, I would be ecstatic. Pass me that vodka again. Let's go to Gorky Park. Now it is Gorky parking lot. Everything has changed." Category:Log